


Whatever will be, will be.

by soulhead



Series: Footage de gueule [4]
Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-11-08 00:00:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17970554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulhead/pseuds/soulhead
Summary: Go big or go home ? Sometime, going home is just the right way to go.





	Whatever will be, will be.

Antoine wasn't used to think waking up was the most difficult part of his day. There was a time where his eyes weren't even closed that he already looked forward to open them once again the following morning.

Yet, today his limbs feel old and frail, almost like he transformed overnight into a sand castle ready to collapse at any moment. However, it's not what catches Antoine's attention at first. No, there's something else, far much worrying that occupy his mind.

Inside his skull, there is an echo of the sound of distant drums resonating and sending a frantic tremor through his body. At first the young player is confused, halfway convinced to still be dreaming, because hearing such a sound can't be normal, right ? Not when it clearly comes from the inward of your body. The softness of the sheets material underneath his fingers and the chilly breeze that scorches his uncovered forearms were a few of the multiple reminders that he was awake. How could he put a stop to his oncoming panic ? It was a bone-crushing sound, every beat of drums he heard reasoned tenfold. At first, it felt impossible not to flinch in rhythm with the ominous percussion, his breathing ragged like his lungs tried to match the irregular tempo reverberating in his skull.

Staying in bed longer than necessary, tossing around in the vain hope the commotion would eventually stop wouldn't achieve anything.

Was it a cry for battle, for an unknown war he was the unwillingly participant ?

Curious and intrigued as he was, the reluctant fighter that he seemed to have become stood up from his bed and exited his room, not ready in any way to face the impending war.

His moves were imprecise, his hands shaky and barely able to grasp the handle of his bathroom's door. His mind felt dizzy like the world suddenly started turning. He spent longs minutes staring down at the white porcelain of his sink and the water spilling from the tap. Wishing he too, could disappear into the plumbings as fluidly as the water, never to be seen again.

He couldn't, he had to face the day. He had to go outside, he had to train with his teammate, important games were coming up. He had to.

This is how, as if transfigured by this litany and the heavy cadency echoing through his mind, he went on his way to the trainings grounds. From the parking lot to the locker room, every steps he took were excruciatingly slow. The smiles people threw at him, from the assistant manager to the medical team, went by, unanswered like they were taunts and as his teammate tried to engage with him, he ditched their attempts, retreating back to his drills with a newfound focus. They day is difficult to go trough, people are too relaxed, the sky is too bright, a stark contrast to the gloomy cacophony of his mind...

So, despite his best attempt at reigning himself over, he fools no one. To the exterior, he probably look like a right maniac, with his clenched fists, tight jaws and monosyllabic mumbling when he's talked to.

As the day goes by, the drums infernal rhythm slows down, each impact making himself desired and almost taking him by surprise, but it's even worse. There's now a sense of dread that got instilled in his body. It's a miracle he hasn't tackled anybody during the training, especially when Lucas, bless his soul, tried to reach out to him :

« Hey Antoine ! » Lucas had interpellated him when he was resting, lying on the grass after completing his rounds of the exercises that were designated to him and watching most of his teammate making their way back to the locker room « Il se passe quoi avec toi aujourd'hui ? » ( _What is up with you today ?_ )

\- « Rien...Je... » ( _Nothing...I..._ ) stuttered Antoine as he hastily stood up and collected his water bottle, hoping to look nonchalant as he was making his way off the ground.

\- « La ferme, tous le monde a vu que y'avait un truc...T'es pas bien ? » ( _Shut up, everyone saw that you had something in your mind...You're ok ?_ ) said impatiently Lucas, stubbornly following him.

\- « Je crois qu'aujourd'hui c'est juste pas ma journée... » ( _I think today is just not my day..._ ) Antoine admitted in a soft tone after entering the locker room to collect his belongings.

\- « Je parle pas juste d'aujourd'hui ! Ca fait depuis plusieurs semaines...On dirait que ça te fais chier de causer avec nous ! T'es toujours ailleurs dans ta tête ! » ( _I'm not speaking about today ! It's been weeks...It's like you can't be bothered to speak with us ! Your head is always elsewhere !_ )

\- « Peut-être parce que je devrais plus être là ! » ( _It's maybe because I shouldn't be there anymore !_ ) replied angrily Antoine, forgetting he was in the middle of a now frozen locker room. There was a venom to the last words between the two french men, that it seemed like everybody understood perfectly well what was going on, even though they couldn't actually understand french.

Eyeing scornfully everyone in this room, Antoine left in a hurry, abandoning all his belonging behind him. The tremor in his head was growing to a deafening level : it was debilitating. To feel nothing but this rhythm coursing through his veins, telling him to find a temporary retreat to regain his strength and to prepare for the battle that was to come..

To whom this animosity was directed ? Was it really to Lucas for worrying about him ? To himself for being unable to resist the anger inside him ? To the whole world, for not hearing those damned drums ?

Like a madman, he ran through the endless corridors of the training facility, walking to the exit in a frenzy. His feet were too slow, his steps not long enough, the road to his house not direct enough.

He needed to go back to his house, to it's relative safety where he would finally be able to be alone, finally able to and wonder what led him to all of this resentment,this feeling of disdain...Lucas was right, if he looks back to the last few weeks, months, he exhibited the same hostile behavior against his teammates, a far cry to the social butterfly he used to be.

Trough his dazed brain, he remember how it started : it was two months ago, the whole Athletico squad was victorious after their last away game of the season before the Christmas holidays. They were on their team's coach, riding back to their base. Some players were disputing what seemed to be an intense game of Uno, others were having a heated debate about today's match in ushered tones. Among all the agitation in the coach, a few were minding their own business. Antoine was one of those. He was almost hiding behind a few covers, taking three seats for himself and to the exterior point of views, he could be sleeping. But if one of his teammate looked close enough, he would see that Antoine had his sleepy eyes open and that he was listening to someone on the phone. Yet, nobody dared to investigate the whereabouts of Antoine. It was part of a well established rule in the locker room of their team : after every-match, the striker would be calling someone on the phone and a long discussion would follow.

It used to be a favorite gossips subject in the club, to try to guess to whom Antoine's was talking to for such long periods of time. Some widely speculated he was talking to a distant flame of his, this one option always ended up discredited by the fact a male voice could sometime be heard erupting from his phone. Others thoughts he was confiding to his agent or personal coach and debriefing his physical condition or maybe that he was talking to one of his family member who stayed back in France. Few were aware that the first proposition was the correct one, even rarer were the ones knowing that this mysterious person was none other than his national team colleague : Paul Pogba.

And so, this post-match evening routine took place like it always did, despite the fact that this time, Antoine's mostly listened to what was said on the phone :

\- « So yeah, we're finally winning, that's great ! I'm happy for the team, happy we're not playing in stiffs defensive positions anymore. We're all finally talking to one another, but there's still this defiance of the staff when I talk to them...it's like they're still not sure if Mourinho was right or not to call me poison for the team... »

\- « You're not ! » instinctively said Antoine

\- « I know I'm not ! But I was stupid enough to think everyone would forget how he badmouthed and discredited me for months and they didn't ! I see it in how they drop an ear when I talk with my teammates like they are afraid I'll start some coup d'état ! I'm not crazy ! I know my place and I respect it and you know what's worse ? I can't talk about it with anyone ! Or else I'm gonna take the role they want me to take, the one that instill doubts and challenge the coach's place and I don't want that !»

\- « I'm always there to talk with you, you know that ! » Antoine tried to reassures him, fully aware of how unconvinced he sounded.

\- « No you're not there ! And that's the problem ! When this phone call will end, all I'll have left of you will be that stu... ! »

\- « Alright boys, we arrive soon, everyone's meeting in room number 6 in 5 minutes for the post-match briefing !” interrupted the assistant manager, unknowingly cutting short their discussion at the worst time possible.

\- « Paul, Paul I need to go out now, we're back at the training's facility but once our debrief is over I'll call you... »

\- « No...» Paul sighed « It's ok I don't know what came over me. Of course you're not there, you have your own shit to deal with. I'll go to sleep now I'll call you tomorrow ! »

With a click, Paul had disconnected the call before Antoine could react.

Just like that the moment was over and as Antoine heard the dead tonality of his phone, the first beat of the drum resonated in his body. Gentle as possible, almost mistakable for a heartbeat, this sound wouldn't stop growing in intensity and would lead him to the present day, in the darkness of his room.

Ruminating the whole day : fleeing, running away, retreating.... That's all he ever did those days.

Maybe after all, he thought, this beat inside him wasn't telling him to prepare for battle, but for an armistice.

An exit from the conflict he felt whenever he was in those introspective moods and he made the mistake of thinking about his daily life :

He would see himself staring at his own reflection every morning, the always busy life of Madrid' streets, his teammate doing drills during a warm afternoon, the intensity of Simeone's gaze when he was angry, the red and white sea of their supporters, the warm sun illuminating the Wanda stadium...

He would see all of those things that made his life, but he wouldn't see home.

_Of course he wouldn't find home in those memories._

Home was far from where he was currently living and it called, it yearned for him to come back.

And once he realized that, Antoine's life would be set into an unstoppable motion, one that he would follow no matter of the consequences.

Club executive would go on public tangents about his lack of maturity, sport journalists would fuss over his wasted talent and abrupt end of career...Old teammate would spill all about his attitude during his last months at Athletico Madrid and fans would desperately try to catch sight of him anywhere possible, speculating about an imminent comeback.

Yet, as he enjoyed the warm feeling to being held by the one he loved and the absolute silence that reigned in his mind, Antoine couldn't bring himself to care.

**Author's Note:**

> I forced myself to create 2 scenes with dialogues in this fic which was terribly traumatic for me to write, as I like my fic to be as vague and introspective as they can be. 
> 
> I really wanted to write about Paul and Antoine and I'm really surprised by the length of this fic ! I tend to get stuck at 1300 words ! It feels like the longest I wrote yet ! This fic was inspired by a quote i read on asofterstadium.tumblr.com


End file.
